


Broken

by FluffyPancakes151



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beating, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Hurt Knock Out, M/M, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-09-17 04:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyPancakes151/pseuds/FluffyPancakes151
Summary: -Rewrite-“Megatron has had enough of Knock Out's constant failures and decides to get rid of the medic once and for all.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to start over, since it’s been so long since I’ve updated. Not beta’d. Sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy!

He was lying against something firm, that was the first thing he was aware of. Whatever it was beneath him was uneven and wet, seeping into his joints and staining his armor. The next thing he realized that he was cold, freezing. His whole frame was shivering, vents releasing small clouds with each shallow intake. Wait.. why was it suddenly so difficult to vent? His optics snapped open of their own accord and he was instantly met with a multitude of swirling colors that made his tanks roil with nausea. He shuttered them instantly, trying to lift a servo to shield them further from the blinding light- only.. his arm wouldn’t lift.

The pain slammed into him suddenly, seemingly coming out of nowhere. A strangled cry wrung itself from his throat at the sheer intensity of it. Agony coursed through his frame, every inch of his plating burned. It felt like he was being impaled by hundreds of swords. He didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the coolant trickle down his chin. Sharp claws scrabbled against the ground as he let out another wail of pure suffering- only to be cut short when his voicebox shut down. Warnings flashed across his vision, but he couldn’t make sense of them. All he was aware of was the pain. 

His elf like audials twitched, flattening themselves against his helm as he screamed soundlessly to the sky above.

********************************************  
Knock Out grumbled silently to himself, shoving his servos forcefully under the solvent spray, only to flinch back because of the scorching heat. Great, as if the recent scuffle with the Autobots wasn’t enough.. 

His finish was a mess. The normally pristine cherry red armor was scratched, silver streaks a stark contrast to the deep crimson. Dents littered every inch of plating, some of them particularly deep. The gash in his side was still leaking, energon dripping sluggishly from the temporarily patched wound. The worst part was that he couldn’t fix anything! Not until he had tended to the Vehicons, who weren’t even that injured in the first place! Who even cared about them anyway? They were just drones.

Venting a deep sigh, he was about to reach for his buffer and a can of wax when the medbay doors opened with a soft hiss. “What now?!” He snapped, turning his crimson glare on whatever poor fool that had been unfortunate enough to interrupt him, only to swallow whatever he was going to say when he realized who it was. 

Dreadwing stood in the doorway, blue optic ridges furrowed in displeasure at the blatant show of disrespect from the red medic. Knock Out forced his enraged scowl into a neutral expression, silently assessing the larger mech, if only to get said mech out of his medbay that much faster. Confusion soon replaced anger as his optics trailed over the powerful form, failing to find even the smallest hint of injury. Which meant, that Dreadwing was either just visiting him for whatever reason or was sent here to fetch him. But why?

“Good evening, doctor.” Dreadwing greeted him in his usual deep polite rumble as he slowly approached the considerably shorter mech. “Our Lord wishes to speak with you before he retires for the night.”

Instantly suspicious, the red medic searched those golden faceplates, but they were emotionless as ever and gave nothing away. Megatron wanted to speak with him? Great, all he needed was to listen to another boring (and mildly disturbing) monologue and then this day would officially be slag. But why did he have an inkling feeling that something was wrong? His instincts had never betrayed him before...

“Doctor?” The seeker’s voice brought his train of thought to a halt and Knock Out looked up at the decepticon SIC who was still waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a few clicks. Just have to clean up here first.” He replied flippantly, very eager to be finally left alone. Dreadwing’s frown deepened minutely at Knock Out’s rudeness , but the larger mech chose not pester the CMO further, instead choosing to simply leave the medbay in silence.

As soon as those doors slid shut behind him, Knock Out let out the vent he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. Warily, his optics scanned his surroundings, silently assessing the state of the room. Unfortunately for him, everything seemed to be in place. His tools were pristine and polished, stacked neatly in their drawers, the surfaces of the medical berths and counters were spot free, completely void of any energon. The report on the state of the troops had been finished as well. He had no excuse to keep the warlord waiting.

Sighing, he reluctantly left the safety of the medbay, flicking the lights off as he left and locking the doors behind him. If anyone was in desperate need of repairs, however unlikely that was at this time of night, they’d contact him via his comm. With one last forlorn glance at the metal doors, he turned and began making his way towards the bridge. As he walked through the long winding halls, he couldn’t help but notice the eerie quiet that had settled over the entire ship. Sure, it was never that noisy to begin with and most of the troops had probably already turned in for the night, but there were always some stragglers who used this time to gossip or play whatever new gams they had picked up from the humans. This silence was unnerving, unnatural. Knock Out had never been a particularly superstitious mech, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive as he reached the dark doors of the Nemesis’s bridge.

‘This can’t be good,’ was the only thought that crossed his processor as he silently steeled himself for the upcoming confrontation before entering the room.

Megatron was standing in his usual place in front of the monitors, his back to the doorway, servos clasped behind his back in a relatively relaxed manner. Knock Out took comfort in that fact. Soundwave hovered nearby, working away with the decoding of the Iacon database as he usually did these days. Neither acknowledged his presence.

The ominous feeling returned and Knock Out glances around, noting that besides the three of them, the bridge was completely empty. Oh, this was definitely not good. Shaking his helm, he held himself a little straighter, trying to regain his usual arrogant stride as he approached his leader, pushing his growing fear aside. 

“My liege..” He spoke, automatically sinking to one knee in the perfect form of submission. He didn’t dare lift his helm even as Megatron turned to face him. The soft, tapping sound of digits against a keyboard stopped, signaling that Soundwave had turned his attention towards him as well, no doubt to record his humiliation. The fragger..

“Doctor.. I see you’ve once again failed to secure the relic.” Megatron sounded.. calm. Too calm. Scrap, scrap scrap!

“M-my lord..” Knock Out stuttered, trying desperately to think of some excuse for his failure- only the silver mech never gave him the chance to do so.

A heavy blow to the side of his helm sent the medic crashing to the floor, shoulder pauldrons colliding painfully with the cold floor. Dazed and disoriented, he groaned as he tried to haul himself up. A second, heavier blow to his back strut sent him down again, a pained moan wringing from his lips. 

Knock Out couldn’t hold back a cry as his master’s pede came crashing down on the small of his back once again, keeping him pinned hopelessly to the floor beneath the greater weight. Large wicked digits dug into his wheels, shredding them mercilessly even as the red mech howled in pain, scratching feebly at the pede in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure. His rims were torn off his body with a sickening screech and another high pitched scream of agony escaped his throat. 

“Stop! Please!..” He was crying now, coolant pouring down his faceplate as the pain was too much to handle. Megatron ignored him, claws digging viciously into his back, rupturing multiple energon lines as they went. Suddenly, Knock Out was hauled up and slammed against the wall with a resounding clang. Grasping weakly at the offending servo presses against his chest, Knock Out turned his pleading optics on the mech before him, energon pouring from the corners of his mouth plate, mixing with the coolant tears. “M-m l-lord!..” 

Megatron’s sword sank into his midsection without warning, pining him to the dark wall. Black and red optics widened and a howl of pure suffering echoed through the large expanse of the bridge as the medic writhed in agony, energon gushing in copious amounts from the deep wound. The warlord couldn’t hold back a delighted smirk as he watched the exquisite display before him, optics roaming over the usually pristine form. His subordinate looked perfect like this, finally put in his place.

Pressing close, his servos wandered over the small frame, kneading painfully into any wounds they could find. Knock Out was begging now, white faceplates stained with light blue coolant as he whispered a mantra of pleas to his lord, optics shut tight.

“Pathetic, Knock Out.” The warlord sneered into a twitching audio as he continued his painful exploration of the red frame. Since Breakdown’s death, the medic had left a string of failures that were a great blow to the Decepticon cause. One he would now pay for with his life. Megatron delighted in the way those optics snapped open as his claws dug into the interface panel, tearing it off with ease. 

Knock Out shook his helm desperately, horror surging through his frame as he realized what his leader was about to do. “N-no... please..” Megatron ignored him.

Knock Out couldn’t hold back the haunting screech as sharp claws slid into his dry valve, clawing and tearing the sensitive walls. His other servo dug into those crimson chestplates, wrenching them open forcefully, ignoring the screams of suffering his actions caused. 

Knock Out shook his helm, fervently trying to deny what was happening to him even as pain filled every inch of his body. Even when he tried to process it, compartmentalize, nothing could prepare him for the suffering he felt when the warlord slammed into him without warning. 

Each thrust was accompanied by a screech and a wail from the red decepticon, the room echoing with the cacophony of metal colliding with metal and sparkwrenching wails of agony and torment. 

After what felt like an eternity the medic’s broken and bleeding frame slumped to the floor, going into emergency stasis. Megatron looked down at the crumpled form with contempt, a sneer pulling at his lip plates as he turned away from the sight and began making his way off the bridge. He was stopped when his third in command approached, obviously waiting to be instructed on what to do with the dying medic.

“Dispose of him.”  
*****************************************  
“Well, this is odd.” Ratchet mumbled as he frowned at the display, digits already flying over the keyboard as he triangulated the signal. He heard the familiar heavy pedesteps behind him and turned just slightly to the mech now standing behind him.

“What is it, old friend?” Optimus Prime asked as he looked down at the red and white medic. Everyone else who was currently in the base looked up from whatever they were doing as well, curious as to what was going on.

The Autobot medic gestured curtly to the handmade screen. "I've picked up a Cybertronian energy signal, but it's very weak. And judging by how fast it’s fading, whoever’s out there is badly wounded."

Bulkhead snorted as he looked up from where he was watching Miko and Jack battle it out on their game controls while Raf was checking something on his laptop, no doubt making sure that no photos of the Autobots were present on any websites.

"Well, it’s definitely not Wheeljack, he just sent me a comm message a few minutes ago. It's probably Screamer again, he'll be fine" The wrecker said, looking at the screen that was currently displaying the signature Ratchet had detected.

"The signature is fading fast, which means that whoever's out there is bleeding out. If we are to save his life we have to go. Now." His medical coding kicking in, Ratchet turned to the Autobot leader, concern blatantly present on his faceplate.

Optimus nodded, moving to the ground bridge controls without hesitation and typing in the coordinates with amazing speed, the green and white vortex powering to life. Decepticon or not, they could not leave a fellow Cybertronian in need.

Ratchet soon came hurrying over, his medical kit held in one servo as he rushed into the portal. Before following the medic, the Prime turned to address the wrecker. "Bulkhead, you shall remain here with the children. Arcee and Bumblebee will be here shortly. I ask you to inform them of the recent development and make sure they don't attack if we return with the Decepticon."

After receiving a curt nod from the green bruiser, Optimus turned and ran through the ground bridge, the vortex powering down behind him.

Bulkhead let out a sigh as he turned back to the human children. While he didn't like the idea of helping a 'con after all the pain his faction had inflicted upon the Autobots, it wasn't his call to make.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! Hope you all had a great time and here’s a new chapter! Enjoy!

He was lying on something soft, pleasant, could feel himself sprawled on whatever softness that was cushioning him, wrapping around his frame like a comforting cocoon. His digits flexed weakly as he tried to grasp at it, but it slipped from his hold, impossibly light and pliant. Red optics slowly cracked open and were met with a white light, not sharp or overpowering, but just as soft and pleasant as whatever it was he was lying on.

He tried to move, to sit up, but his arms wouldn’t move despite his efforts. He was just too weak and so, so tired. His optics shuttered and he turned his helm away, something between a whine and a groan escaping his throat against his will. The attempts to remember what had happened to him soon proved to be in vain. His memories were too disjointed, fuzzy and confusing. Too weak, too weak. Silver servos balled into fists as he began to shake in frustration and distress.

A servo slid gently over his palm, uncurling his digits. Thick fingers laced between his thin, sharp ones, a large palm eclipsing his smaller one. Another servo came up to soothingly caress the side of his helm, tracing the elegant contours of his finals and brushing over his pointed audial in a wholly calming motion.

Knock Out gasped. That touch.. Familiar, so achingly familiar. His optics cracked open again, meeting a blurry mix of blue, silver and orange. Breakdown. His vents hitched as those servos slid over his frame. The soft caresses were nothing, but soothing, calming. Starting at his wrists, they moved over his arms, shoulders, chest plate and sides, thumbs softly tracing the lines of his abdominal plating. 

Knock Out drank in the gentle touch, the tenderness Breakdown had always treated him with, as if he were fragile and revered. Only now he realized just how much he’d missed and longed to feel it again. His optics closed, a soft smile stretching across his face for the first time in months. The medic leaned into the touch, servos coming up to weakly grasp at those familiar shoulders as if to a lifeline. 

He felt Breakdown’s smile as the large mech bowed his helm to nuzzle softly against a pale audial fin. A soft breath passed over his cheek plate before his mouth was claimed in a firm, but gentle kiss. Knock Out’s audials twitched at the playful flick of a glossa against his lips. His mouth opened, allowing the familiar sweet invasion, relishing the taste he’d feared he’d lost forever. 

Knock Out’s hold tightened, a small whimper wringing from his throat.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, Knock Out.”

That voice.. The one he'd thought he would never hear again. His optics prickled, beads of lubricant spilling from beneath closed optics as Breakdown eased from the kiss, his servos moving over the smaller frame in reassuring caresses. "Breakdown.."

”I’m here.”

His partners hand came up to curl over his lower back, pressing him closer. They held steady when Knock Out began to shake, his vents hiccuping in a vain effort to keep the sobs at bay. Breakdown only brought him closer, his large frame enveloping the medic’s smaller one protectively, soothingly. 

“I’ve got you.”

Knock Out’s optics opened again, drinking in the familiar contours of the mech’s face, even through the tears and static clouding his vision. His claws were raking grooves in the dull blue armor, but neither of them paid any attention to the minor damage. Knock Out swallowed, neck cables flexing as he whispered between soft sobs. “I missed you.”

Breakdown sat up, cradling the smaller mech to his chest, allowing Knock Out to latch on in a desperate bid to bring himself even closer. “I know,” He whispered, “I know..”

Gradually, Knock Out’s sobs faded and he was only a trembling mass in his conjux’s servos, but soon even the trembles grew faint until finally disappearing. 

Knock Out sighed happily, his cheek coming to rest against the large chest plate he knew so well. “We can stay like this forever.”

“No.. not yet.”

Red optics snapped open as the medic’s frame shifted, now sitting up in the larger mech’s hold. They desperately searched that orange face and golden optics for any sign of deceit, silver digits curling even tighter around the blue armor.

“B-but.. I’m dead.. I died. I-“

“No, you didn’t die, Knock Out.”

Knock Out’s lips trembled as he fought for composure, clinging to what he believed to be - wanted to be true, so that it would never, ever come to an end. 

Megatron wouldn’t go through the trouble of searching for someone competent enough to repair him. Knock Out was a nuisance, a weak link in the chain. Megatron wanted him dead, as did most of the decepticons. So who would..

The answer was so obvious, he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it immediately. “The Autobots..” The two words were growled out, clawed servos once again curling into fists. Breakdown pressed him closer, his presence a soothing balm that ripples through him, calmed him.

“I don’t want to go..” Knock Out whispered, clinging even more desperately to Breakdown. Indeed, why would he go back? All the war had ever brought him was pain and suffering. All that scheming and planning,fighting and backstabbing.. What good did that ever bring him? It ripped his conjuring away from him. And now that he was so close to being with him again.. “I don’t want to go back.”

“You can’t stay here, you have to. There’s more for you to do yet.” One of the mech’s servos came up caress Knock Out’s cheek in a wholly soothing motion when the red medic turned away and spoke, his voice meek with resignation. 

“Do I have to go now?”

“Not yet, but soon.” Their lips met once more, indulging in another deep kiss.

“Don’t worry, Knock Out. I’ll be here, waiting for you, when your time comes.”

////////////////////////////

Ratchet was sitting quietly on the box that served as a makeshift chair he'd pushed over to sit by Knock Out's berth. Night had fallen over the base, the kids had been taken to their homes and Team Prime had also decided to retire to their respective rooms. All except one. The Autobot medic's optics would periodically scan the smaller mech's form and occasionally shift towards the monitors showing Knock Out's vitals, checking for any abnormalities. The welds that were crisscrossing the usually smooth plating were a sharp contrast to the deep red, but that wasn't important as they were smooth and even and obviously holding strong. The smaller mech's sparkbeat remained weak, but steady.

The old medic sighed tiredly, slouching forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge. Every line and contour of his frame expressed his deep exhaustion. Knock Out had flatlined at one point.. it was truly a miracle that he was able to bring him back, considering the damage the red mech had taken. Looking at the mech now, unwanted memories once again came to the surface.

 

/////////////////////////

As the two Autobots stepped out of the swirling portal, they found themselves in a mountainous region that was apparently called the Altai Mountains. Their vents puffed out steam from the cold air, a deceptively gentle breeze brushing against their large frames.

Ignoring the beautiful night scenery before him, the red and white Autobot medic activated his scanner, searching for the Cybertronian emitting the energy signature he'd detected.

"This way!" Ratchet said as he immediately set off, his pace somewhere between a sprint and a full run, being closely followed by Optimus. Suddenly he skidded to a halt, his E.M field flaring with horror and concern as he took in the sight before him.

There, lying before him was none other than the infamous Decepticon CMO. But he was hardly recognizable, lying in a pool of his own life blood with snow and dirt sticking to his armor. Knock Out's red plating was dented and torn and soaked in spilt energon, exceptionally deep gashes just barely showing, the dried azure liquid glinting in the moonlight.

Immediately Ratchet rushed over, gently rolling the 'con onto his back and gasping at what he saw. Knock Out's chest plates were ripped and shredded. His spark chamber looked like it had been wrenched open and the swiftly fading light of his spark clearly showed through the gaps in his armor.

Ratchet felt Optimus’s presence as the larger mech kneeled next to him, his blue optics filled with concern and worry as he looked down at the dying mech. "Ratchet, what do you need?"

"We've got to get him back to my medical bay. I can't help him here." Locking his gaze with the Prime, his voice became firm. "We have to act quickly or he he will die."

Nodding, the red and blue mech gingerly scooped up the broken form into his arms, ruptured energon lines and wires spilling between his digits as he desperately attempted to keep them in place. Once the ground bridge portal powered up, he rushed through it, Knock Out cradled to his chest and with the Autobot medic hot on his heels.

"Out of the way! NOW!" Ratchet barked as he quickly began setting up various monitors in the small room they were using for a medical bay, gesturing to Optimus to settle the wounded decepticon on one of the nearest berths.

Gently depositing his cargo upon the smooth surface, the larger mech backed up and left Ratchet to work, but not before glancing back at Knock Out's broken form and the bright energon that was already pooling beneath him.

His expression was grim as the medbay doors slid shut, obscuring the horrible sight. Whatever Team Prime had expected, it definitely wasn't this. Though none of them particularly liked Knock Out ( his attempts to offline each of them on multiple occasions certainly didn't help), they had been shocked to see him in such a condition.

Arcee and Bulkhead looked the calmest out of the whole group, their expressions serious. The small two wheeler had her servos crossed over her chest plate, her whole frame held tense. Bumblebee let out a sad whirr while Smokescreen and the kids all shared the same horrified expression. Optimus felt a sharp pang of guilt. He should have sent them away.. They were too young to witness the horrors of war.

Tense silence fell upon the group as they waited. No one dared to say anything, even Miko was silent. The first to break the silence was Raf. His voice was quiet and barely audible as he addressed the Autobot leader. "Why.. Who would do such a thing?.."

Despite his best efforts at keeping his composure, Optimus felt his servos curl into fists, just barely shaking as his optics narrowed in cold fury, just barely stopping himself from spitting out the name like a foul curse.

"Megatron.”

////////////////////////

"How is he?"

Ratchet nearly jumped out of his armor at the unexpected deep rumbling voice coming from behind him. Optimus Prime was standing beside the red and white medic, his blue gaze fixed on the still form upon the berth. The medic sighed deeply again as he sat up to lean against the wall, his servos coming to cross over his chest plate.

"He's in critical condition, Optimus. I'm not sure if he'll survive till morning. Primus knows how he'd lived long enough to be found. His helm was dented and he has suffered a mild concussion, most likely from taking a heavy blow. His internal organs were a mess due to the multiple stab wounds, one pede was crushed, the other ended at the knee and had to be rebuilt. His arms were ripped from their respective sockets, the energon lines connecting them torn and crumpled. I assume Megatron used his servos to do that, most likely to inflicts as much pain as possible. His whole plating was crushed or dented. But what caught my attention the most was.." Here Ratchet hesitated, glancing up at the Prime.

The larger mech noted the pause and gave the smallest of nods, placing a servo on the medic's shoulder, offering comfort and silently telling him to continue. Ratchet took a deep vent before speaking again. "I have reason to believe that Megatron.. raped him. Knock Out's interface panel had been forcefully removed, spike completely crushed and his valve practically torn to shreds. His chest plate and chamber were torn open and his spark.." Ratchet looked like he was going to be sick. "That monster forcefully merged with him, Optimus! Merged! Honestly, it’s nothing short of a miracle that he's still alive."

"Knock Out's still alive thanks to you old friend. You rose above your hate and went to save not an enemy, but a fellow Cybertronian. I'm proud of you." The servo on the medic's shoulder squeezed gently as Optimus turned back to look at the injured mech.

'What have you done, Megatron..' He thought sadly, stiffening when Knock Out's sparkbeat quickened for a split second, but soon relaxing again as it evened out and Ratchet's scan showed that everything was fine. 'What did he do to warrant such cruelty?'

Turning back to the Autobot medic, he spoke softly, so as not to disturb the patient. "You should go get some rest, Ratchet. I'll watch him."

His friend looked like he was about to argue, but after a brief stare down acquiesced and stood up to leave. Optimus took the now vacant spot, readying himself for a long night ahead, when Ratchet spoke up once again, voice unusually quiet. 

“He might not want to live after this, Optimus. Few do.”

The Prime hung his helm, sad blue optics watching the still, broken form on the lone berth and the flashing monitors.

“We’ll watch him,” He said, voice firm and determined, “Do what we can for him.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since I’ve last updated. Oops. Anyway, I made this chapter longer. 
> 
> Warnings: PTSD, mentions of rape, mentions of suicide, flashbacks, panic attacks, nightmares

He was back there again, the dim purple light of the Nemesis’s bridge surrounding him on all sides, trapping him within his nightmare. The pain was encompassing, all-consuming, but he had stopped screaming a long time ago, his voice box having shorted out. All he was aware of was the heavy grunting against his audial, large, clawed and repulsive servos trailing over his frame, the unwanted presence within him. He tried to writhe, to scream, to struggle, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not escape. His futile efforts only seemed to amuse the assailant tormenting him.

“Pathetic, Knock Out.” The deep voice rumbled and he withheld a sob. “You are an embarrassment to the Decepticon cause, a worthless piece of slag unworthy of attention..” The medic shook as silver claws dug into his plating, scratching up his plating as if the mere sight of the glossy finish was disgusting to the larger mech. Some subconscious part of him knew that some of the thin gashes would scar, that he’d forever be marked and soiled. 

A burst of static escaped him when the servo slid lower, stroking over his abdomen, making sure to jar the stab wound there. “Look at me.” Knock Out opened his optics before he could even think about disobeying the order, light blue coolant tears blurring his vision. Megatron sneered down at him, blood red optics narrowed in derision. “You are going to die knowing that you are a failure, a useless pile of scrap, a burden and the laughing stock of the whole army.” The medic trembled, a choked cry escaping him as the warlord moved, fresh agony spreading through his lines like fire. “No one will care that you are gone..” But Knock Out already knew that.

He woke with a sharp gasp, sitting up in what seemed to be a berth. Megatron was gone. Confusion coursed through him as he looked around, realizing that he did not recognize the small room before the pain slammed into him. His lines burned from the fresh energon being pumped in, making relief impossible. His abdomen and chest ached and he felt as if he were being stabbed again. But the worst hurt.. the worst hurt was somewhere else entirely. The shocking force of it was enough for him to be unable to stifle the broken cry that wrung itself from his throat. Why did it hurt? Wasn’t he dead? Where was Breakdown? He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t- He flinched violently away from the soft touch of foreign servos against his shoulders. Red optics snapped open in panic. 

Ratchet stood over him, servos held up in a placating gesture as he looked down in concern at the injured mech on the berth. “Easy, I’m not going to hurt you.” He spoke softly, but Knock Out didn’t hear him. His venting quickened and he knew that he was hyperventilating as the Autobot medic moved closer.. only it was no longer the medic. Blue optics morphed into red, red and white plating turned into cold silver, and the blunt digits reaching out for him were now wicked claws. He scrambled away desperately, landing on the floor with a jarring, painful thud, crying out as the pain seemed to double from the action. He only allowed himself a moment to recover before lurching away, backplates meeting the wall as he curled in on himself, looking up at the figure with unrestrained terror. “Please..” His breath hitched and he let the lubricant build up in his optics. “Please don’t.. Don’t!”

Ratchet stilled, blue optics wide, servo still outstretched in front of him. Inwardly, he cursed at his own stupidity. He’d seen this kind of behavior before, but it always hurt to encounter it again. Knock Out was having a flashback. He thought he was Megatron. Lowering carefully into a crouch next to the injured mech, he kept his servos where Knock Out could see him and spoke in soft tones. “Knock Out it’s me, Ratchet. Come on mech, look at me.” Tentatively, he reached out, placing his servo on the ‘Con’s knee joint in order to bring him out of whatever nightmare he’d fallen into. 

The red mech jolted away as if he’d scalded him, looking up, crimson optics wide with fear. Ratchet allowed a small smile of relief at the spark of recognition, reaching out to softly place his servo on the trembling mech’s shoulder as he continued to murmur in gentle tones. His spark broke as he watched the tears slide down those pearly white faceplates, Knock Out trying desperately to hide his fear and humiliation. “Come on, let’s get you back on the berth.” Ratchet murmured, moving to help the injured medic stand only for the red mech to jerk violently out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch me!” Knock Out snarled, voice cracking. “Don’t... don’t touch me..” A ragged sob wracked his frame, one that he futilely tried to stifle, frame shuddering from the power of the raw emotions taking over. Slowly, cautiously, Ratchet wound his servo around the smaller mech’s shoulders, pulling Knock Out into his arms, the red mech too exhausted and in too much pain to fight him. He moved him back to the berth, reattaching the cables lines that had been pumping Energon into Knock Out’s lines, adding a sedative, so that the young mech would drift off into a thankfully dreamless sleep. Something told him that Knock Out would rather be unconscious right now. Sighing, Ratchet reached for his tools, eyeing the wounds that had reopened during the struggle. The spot where the young mech had been stabbed was sluggishly dripping energon.

Silently, he began tending to the damage, blue optics downcast and dim with sympathy and worry. Physically, Knock Out would recover, but he would always be scarred, not only mentally, but physically as well. There would always be a line across his abdomen, slightly paler than the silver around it where the nanites would not be able to fully heal and there would be several scars on his wrists, chest and sides where Megatron had been particularly vicious. Ratchet felt sick. As if the humiliation and indignity Knock Out had suffered wasn’t enough, the young mech now had to deal with scars as a physical reminder of what he had gone through. And knowing how the racer liked to take care of his appearance, this would break him just a little further. If not destroy him completely. Sighing, he set down his tools as he finished, letting Knock Out rest under the thermal blanket he’d draped over him. This would probably be the last time the red mech was at peace for a long time. He could only hope that Knock Out would choose to fight, to recover, to live. The thought made his spark clench in his chest. Decepticon or not, no one deserved to suffer what the racer had and he felt burning anger course through him at the thought of Megatron. But that was not important now. What mattered now was to help Knock Out recover.. before he made the rash choice.

Giving the unconscious mech a sad glance, he left the room, shutting the door behind him. The monitors Knock Out was hooked up to would alert him if anything changed. The base was almost eerily quiet, most of it’s occupants outside of it’s perimeter. Arcee, Bumblebee And Bulkhead were most likely either on patrol or keeping the children away from base. None of them needed to know about the decepticon’s condition. Optimus was probably in his quarters, looking over the the map of the energon mines they had discovered, thinking up a strategy. This allowed Ratchet a few moments of weakness.

He leaned heavily against the railing, mind unwillingly returning to the horrible sight of Knock Out, injured and trembling, cowering on the medbay floor, knees drawn close to his chest, red optics wide and filled with so much terror, so much anguish both physical and mental. It hurt. He let out a ragged gasp, feeling the lubricant build up and drip down his face. It always hurt. A mech so young, so full of life.. Primus, he was barely older than Bumblebee! Just a youngster who’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, chose the wrong faction. And he was now paying for it. Ratchet had seen so many.. but it always hurt to see another. Not all of them chose to accept his help, some he had lost. He was not going to lose Knock Out as well, he’d make sure he would pull through.

But Ratchet was so tired of carrying this burden alone. He wanted desperately to tell someone, to be listened to, but his teammates already had enough problems to deal with. The old medic was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn’t even notice the elevator doors open and a small woman approach him with cautious steps. “Ratchet?” June Darby’s voice was quiet, eyebrows drawn together in concern, a stack of clean clothes grasped tightly in her arms. The medic quickly drew a servo over his faceplate, wiping away the tears, even though it was too late, June had already seen them. “Ratchet, what’s going on? The children said.. said that you brought in an injured decepticon. Is that true? Is that why you’re keeping them away?” Ratchet nodded, unable to form words, struggling to get his vocalizer under control. June stepped closer, reaching out to place her small hand against one of his digits in a comforting gesture. “Tell me what happened.”

Ratchet took a deep vent, gathering what was left of his strength to push the words out of his vocalizer. “Four days ago we.. got a signal. In the Altai Mountains. We-“ He coughed, forcing himself to continue. “We went to investigate. It was Knock Out.” June remained silent, stroking her hand gently against his digit. “He-he’s been beaten by Megatron.” The woman let out a soft gasp, blue eyes filled with sympathy. “As if that wasn’t enough...” Why was it suddenly so difficult speak? Taking another deep vent, he blurted it out before he could think otherwise. “He’s been raped, June.” Ratchet could not bring himself to meet her eyes. His shoulders shook and he pulled away from her touch, suddenly ashamed at his own weakness. As if Knock Out hadn’t suffered enough, now even the humans knew of the ordeal he’d gone through. The medic doubted that June would tell the kids, they did not need to know something like this, and agent Fowler already knew. He’d been the one to receive Ratchet’s report after all. Ratchet remembered the stunned, sickened and sympathetic look the man had given given him. He could not stop the shame that coursed through him. Knock Out’s privacy had been violated enough in the past few days. 

“Will he live?” Her quiet voice broke him out of his thoughts. Ratchet looked back down at her, surprised by the resolve in her eyes. He nodded, unable to form words. At least he hoped Knock Out would, it was in the red mech’s servos now. “Can I see him?” Unable to form words, still in shock from the sudden bravery and professionalism the small woman exhibited, he outstretched a single servo, allowing her to climb onto it, thin arms wrapping around his thumb digit as he began walking back to the medbay.

The steady beeping met their ears as they entered the small room, still in disarray after Knock Out’s panic attack. Knock Out was twitching in his sleep, muffled whimpers escaping parted lip plates, servos curling into the sheets as his whole frame shuddered in quiet sobs. Cursing, he set June down on one of the counters, rushing back towards the thrashing mech just as a high pitched whine of anguish wrung itself from the smaller mech’s throat. Quickly injecting the additional sedative, he watched as Knock Out’s faceplate slowly relaxed as he dropped back into a dreamless sleep. Sighing softly, he wiped away the tears glistening on pearly white faceplates, fixing the rumpled blanket and tucking him in. Watching the youngster sadly, he grasped Knock Out’s clawed servo, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to show the injured decepticon his support, even though Knock Out probably wouldn’t feel it. 

Silence fell in the medbay once again. As he comforted the unconscious mech, Ratchet watched June out of the corner of his optic. She was leaning against one of his tools, shaking, a hand pressed over her mouth as she watched the injured medic, sorrow etched into every line of her face. He reached his arm towards her and she climbed on so he could set her on the berth beside Knock Out. With the amount of drugs coursing through the decepticon’s system, it was unlikely that he’d move in the next few hours. June reached out, drawing her arm with feather light touches over Knock Out’s abdomen, tracing the edges of the wound there. “Stab wound.” Ratchet muttered at her questioning glance and she nodded quietly in understanding, stroking gently over the decepticon’s side. 

“I’ve dealt with a case like this before.” June muttered softly. “A young woman, barely nineteen years old. I remember spending nights at her side, being there for her.” Taking a deep breath, she softly pet Knock Out’s grill and continued. “She got pregnant.. from the attack.” Ratchet glanced at her, surprise evident in both optics and field. “She didn’t know what to do, you know? It wasn’t the child’s fault.. who his father was, but at the same time it would always serve as a reminder of what happened.. You said that you didn’t have genders, not like us. I guess I just.. hope that Knock Out won’t be forced to face the same decision.” 

The medic nodded softly, digits tightening around Knock Out’s servo. “I hope so as well. I don’t think he’d be able to handle it.” He quickly scanned the monitors, checking the readings and making sure that everything was fine. “Cybertronian childbearing is much slower than human, nurse Darby. It’ll take several months before we can tell for sure. But.. with the forced merge and interface.. it is possible, however much I hate to admit even the possibility.” June glanced at him, laying her hand over his servos in a comforting gesture. Ratchet choked, looking away from the both of them, unable to handle her gaze. “I know that he’s the enemy, that he’s caused Bumblebee a lot of grief in particular, but nobody deserves this. He’s so young, Primus damn it!” He slammed his servos against the counter, trembling. “I’m just.. I’m so tired of this stupid war. We lost so many lives, lost our planet! And yet we’re still killing each other. And for what?” Ratchet knew that his frustration was obvious, but he couldn’t help it. He was just so exhausted.

June said nothing. What was there to say? Megatron was a megalomaniac. He wouldn’t stop until he conquered either Earth or Cybertron. All the Autobots could do was make sure that that didn’t happen. But right now, they needed to tend to the injured mech brought into their midst. Glancing at Knock Out’s sleeping face, she felt her heart clench in sympathy and anger, hand resting over the racer’s servo. Ratchet was right, no one deserved this. 

Knock Out’s nightmare was just beginning and all they could do was hope that he’d have the strength to fight it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow I actually managed to update again in less than a month. Finally! Anyway, I’d like to thank everyone for their continued support! Enjoy the chapter

June became a regular visitor in the Autobot medbay. Ratchet could not say that that displeased him, on the contrary, he was quite glad for her help. Knock Out remained in an unconscious state, his systems slowly recovering from the great stress he had endured. Even so, the red mech was plagued by nightmares and any touch, even one meant to offer comfort, frightened him. Ratchet had taken to staying in the medbay during night hours, sometimes June would come and forcefully send him off to bed. As much as he hated to admit it, Knock Out seemed much more receptive to her touch rather than his. Perhaps it was so because she was human. Her warm soft fingers felt nothing like his digits and therefore could not bring back the painful memories of Megatron’s cruel claws. His optics roamed over the dark discolorations on Knock Out’s exposed protoform, covering them up with a thermal blanket. The decepticon medic was feverish, apparently some infection had had time to set in by the time they got to him. His panic attack had jarred his injuries and thus delayed his recovery by weeks, if not months. After spending so much time in berth, Knock Out would need to relearn how to walk and then to transform. If he could transform anymore. When Megatron had run him through with his sword, he had damaged the medic’s T-cog. They wouldn’t know if Ratchet’s repairs had helped until Knock Out attempted to transform. Ratchet kept telling himself that he did everything that was in his power, that he had managed to repair Bumblebee’s T-cog all those months ago, that surely he could trust in his own abilities? But it didn’t stop the sick feeling of helplessness that plagued his every waking moment.

The base was unusually quiet, probably due to the lack of children around. Neither of the Autobot guardians felt comfortable bringing them in when there was a ‘con around. It didn’t matter that said decepticon had suffered severe injuries and that the only threat he could pose, if any, was to himself. Arcee in particular seemed upset by Knock Out’s presence. He could see where she was coming from, the CMO had been quite the thorn in their side, not to mention that he almost killed some of them (his attempt to behead Bulkhead instantly came to mind), but what he had suffered through was beyond despicable. Perhaps it would’ve been better if Megatron had just offlined him. But the two wheeler seemed reluctant to see it that way. 

Bulkhead remained stoic, but Ratchet had seen the intense sorrow in his optics. He wasn’t surprised. Bulkhead used to be a wrecker, constantly on the front lines. He’d seen such atrocious acts committed before, not only by decepticons, but some Autobots as well. There were monsters in both factions, as hard as it was to admit it. Ratchet was there when Bulkhead had had to put down a friend who’d gone too far. The green mech visited the decepticon, but never approached him, instead opting to stand quietly in the doorway. Perhaps that was for the best. If Knock Out suddenly woke up, Bulkhead could trigger another panic attack, even by just standing there. He wasn’t that much shorter than Megatron after all. In a semi conscious state the decepticon could take him for his former master.

Bumblebee seemed the most shaken. He wasn’t that much younger than Knock Out and after seeing the medic’s terror over the surveillance cameras, he seemed deeply disturbed. He was never one to hold grudges and accepted Knock Out’s presence easier than the rest. He did not feel comfortable enough to visit him however, the situation just too odd to handle. Smokescreen was much the same. Ratchet suspected that neither of them truly understood what rape was. Sure, they understood what it meant, but they could not grasp the severity of the consequences, the deep wound the victim had to live with. They did not know what the action truly meant to the former ‘Con, just the mere definition.

Knock Out was a prideful mech. His vanity, his flamboyance, arrogance, showy fighting style - they protected him, hid the insecurities, the weaknesses that could be exploited by others as it was a common occurrence in the decepticon ranks. His dignity meant everything to him, it was his very being.. And Megatron stripped that away as if it was nothing, humiliated him, broke him. It was likely that Knock Out would never use polish again, not on his own anyway, too terrified that it would somehow provoke his rapist’s ire. Arcee was too blinded by her grief to see the whole picture. After all, Knock Out was still alive, something that most bots weren’t. But in a sense the medic was already dead, completely stripped of everything, his whole identity stolen.

He didn’t notice June calling his name until a small hand collided with his forearm, not even remotely painful, but enough to grasp his attention. Ratchet looked down at her, blue optics questioning. The woman looked absolutely exhausted, her usually sleek black hair in a frazzled mess. She was swaying slightly where she stood, as if she were desperately repressing the urge to lean against the railing for some semblance of relief. It looked like the mere action of standing upright was sapping whatever was left of her strength. There were dark circles under her eyes, proof of many sleepless nights she’d spent comforting Knock Out when he was tormented by nightmares. Ratchet couldn’t understand how she could do it. Perhaps understanding and sympathy were the traits all medics shared, no matter the species. 

“He’s awake.” Her voice was faint from whispering soft comfort for several nights on end. “He asked me to leave, I think he was ashamed that I saw him in this kind of state. I left, but I don’t think he should be alone right now. Perhaps, he’ll accept your presence. You saved his life, if there’s anyone in this base whom he can trust, it’s you.” Ratchet nodded quietly, setting down his synthetic energon research in favor of focusing on the person who needed his help the most right now. Sighing, he sent June off, opening the ground bridge for her so that she would not have to deal with a long drive home. She was exhausted enough as it were. June nodded gratefully in thanks, slung her small bag over her shoulder and left, but not before telling him to contact her if necessary. Ratchet doubted Knock Out would outright ask to see her, he felt humiliated enough as it were. He stood there for a few seconds, optics fixed on the now disabled bridge before slowly heading to the small medical bay. 

Knock Out was sitting up in the berth, the thermal blanket Ratchet had covered him with draped over his form, hiding as much plating as possible. The Autobot medic got the impression that if he could, the decepticon would’ve curled in on himself, drawing his knees as close as possible to his chest. But the stab wound was still healing and it looked like the red racer was coherent enough not to risk reopening it. Only now did Ratchet notice just how small Knock Out really was. He’d always been shorter than most mechs, but he had never looked as frail as he did now. His plating was a dull and light scarlet color as opposed to his usual deep cherry red. Gray shadows lined his face, making him seem haggard. His haunted red optics were were focused on the opposite wall, but Ratchet knew that he wasn’t seeing it, probably fighting to keep the horrible memories from surfacing again, to erase Megatron’s voice that was still ringing in his audials. 

Ratchet cleared his throat softly, flaring his E.M field, so that Knock Out would recognize him instantly and not fall into another flashback. The ‘Con jolted, snapping his helm quickly in his direction and Ratchet swallowed a lump in his throat at the brief flash of panic in those red optics. There was an almost unnoticeable slump in Knock Out’s shoulders as he realized who it was, before turning away, not feeling the least inclined to speak to the Autobot. Ratchet bit back the urge to ask if he was okay. Knock Out was not fine and would not be for a long time. Asking such a question would just be stupid. The usual reassurances of “it will be alright” and “you’re going to be fine” seemed fake and insincere. Instead, he settled on entering the medbay, quietly pulling up a chair to sit beside his patient. Knock Out watched him from the corner of his optic, a sneer pulling at his top lip plate. “Well?!” He snapped when it was clear that Ratchet would not speak.

“Well what?” The Autobot asked, slightly perplexed.

“Are you going to interrogate me or not? I assume that’s the only reason you chose to waste your time saving a filthy ‘Con’s life.” Ratchet winced at that choice in words, catching the hidden pain in Knock Out’s voice. Was that what he thought of himself? Just a filthy ‘Con, proof of the devastating blow his self-esteem had taken. He supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised all that Knock Out would think that the only reason he was saved was for intel. Ratchet studied Knock Out’s face, noting how the decepticon refused to meet his gaze.

“No.” He said at last, leaning back in his chair, somewhat grateful that he’d crafted something much more comfortable to sit on than a random box big enough to hold his weight. Knock Out looked up sharply, suspicious red optics searching studying his face with an almost frightening intensity. Ratchet refused to show any unease. Knock Out was acting like a cornered animal, it was best that the Autobot acted as casually as possible without being threatening at the same time.

“I should’ve known, of course you autobots would be too soft sparked to let a ‘Con die.” The racer sneered scathingly, but Ratchet caught the note of bitterness that crept into the decepticon’s tone. Perhaps at this moment Knock Out was wishing that he’d been allowed to die rather than be forced to live with the trauma of what had happened to him. He wouldn’t react well to sympathy and he’d keep lashing out in any way he could to hide the anguish that was just beneath the surface. “I told the human I wanted to be alone, was that too much to ask for? Your Autobot principals don’t allow your patients to have some privacy?!”

“Your injuries were most severe.” Ratchet said, forcefully channeling his professionalism even when Knock Out flinched, optics widening. It was his job to inform his patients of their condition and it was better than trying to offer sympathy that was unwanted. “The stab wound in your abdominal plating will take several earth months to heal, your fall extended the recovery period by several weeks. The other stab wounds aren’t as serious, they will heal quicker. Your internal organs were severely damaged, I’ll need to keep a close observation on you to make sure that nothing malfunctions. You have a mild concussion, so I would not recommend movement. One of your pedes was completely crushed, the other had to be rebuilt from the knee. As a result, you will need to relearn how to walk and then transform. I’ve had to replace several wires and energon lines in your shoulder joints where M-“ Ratchet cut himself off before he could utter the dreaded name, but it was obvious that Knock Out realized what he’d almost said. The decepticon’s E.M field flared with barely restrained terror and distress, out of his control, red plating clamping tight around his protoform, making him seem even smaller in the large medical berth. Silently cursing himself, the Autobot reached out to gently place his servo on the mechs shoulder. Knock Out flinched away from his touch as if it were poisonous, a panicked “Don’t-!” wringing from his throat before he finally met Ratchet’s gaze, snapping himself out the dark memories he’d briefly fallen into. Ratchet’s spark clenched painfully in his chest at the look of dawning realization and rising humiliation in Knock Out’s optics, before the red mech looked away, his whole frame shaking despite his best efforts to remain calm.

Ratchet moved closer, resisting the urge to grasp the racer’s servo like he did when the latter had been unconscious, his guilt seeping into his field despite his best efforts. “I know what was done to you, Knock Out.” The decepticon cringed, white audials lowering and pressing flat against his helm in shame to Ratchet’s dismay. “You have to know that it wasn’t your fault, nothing could have done could have warranted such a punishment. The mech who took advantage of you is sick. There was nothing you could’ve done..” Knock Out raised a trembling arm to cover his face plate, unable to meet the autobot’s optics, but Ratchet could see the faint glimmer of tears that the decepticon was desperately trying to hold back. 

“Please..” Knock Out’s voice was hoarse. “I don’t.. Don’t want to talk, please don’t -“ A ragged sob, escaped his lips despite his best efforts, frame shaking from the power of the emotions he failed to hold back. Despite the protests, Ratchet drew the mech into his arms, allowing the mech a literal shoulder to cry on even when sharp digits dug painfully into his plating, clawing at him only to desperately cling to him and the comfort of his embrace. Knock Out waited for the touch to stray to more intimate areas, for Ratchet to take advantage of him just like Megatron had, but it never did. Ratchet’s servos remained lightly on his back, digits drawing soothing circles between his shoulder blades where his wheels were once. Their absence and the reason behind it made him shake all the harder. Knock Out shuttered his optics, pressing closer to the medic, submitting himself to the soft comfort he was offered. 

At some point Ratchet began whispering gentle reassurances, his digits never stopping in their soft caress. Things like ‘it will be alright’, ‘I’m here’ and most importantly ‘you’re safe’. ‘You’re safe’. Knock Out drank in the soft touch, the gentle comfort he’d been offered by only one mech so long ago. Breakdown. Fresh tears welled in his optics and he wiped them away, opening his optics, his gaze accidentally falling on the doorway, only to go absolutely still at the sight of a mech standing in the doorway.

The first thing that registered in his mind was the long, purple sword the figure held in his clawed digits.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have some time to write and I’m going to take advantage of it! Also, fair warning this scene has a very (and I am completely serious) graphic rape scene. For those who are squeamish I will mark the beginning and end, so you can skip. There will be several such scenes in the next few chapters as it is necessary for the plot, since I didn’t show in full detail what truly happened in chapter 1 to give a clear idea of the level of trauma that Knock Out is dealing with.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Knock Out went absolutely still. This couldn’t be.. this couldn’t be happening. He was dimly aware of Ratchet’s questioning voice, but could not bring himself to look away. His frame wouldn’t listen to him. The medic’s venting quickened as panic took hold, his whole body beginning to shake as terror laced through him. The servos on his back stilled as the Autobot leaned back to get a good look at his faceplate, brow ridges furrowed in concern. Megatron took a step forward, his heavy pedesteps echoing in Knock Out’s audials. The racer tried to pull away, but the arms around him tightened their hold. He was trapped.

Red optics widened with barely controlled terror and he pushed at Ratchet’s hold, every instinct in his body telling him to get away, to put as much distance between himself and his attacker as possible. Driven almost mindless by the cold horror he struck out at Ratchet’s helm, startling him just enough for the Autobot to loosen his hold. He managed to dislodge himself, lurching away from the approaching menacing form of his former master, heedless of the pain that instantly surged through his lines. The only thing that mattered was to run, to hide, to escape-

“Please..” Knock Out whispered, claws grasping at the berth until he was at the very edge. There was a sudden flash of red and white armor and the decepticon was slammed against the berth, energon cuffs clicking shut around his arms and legs and keeping him secured to the plush surface. He struggled with feverish despair against the restraints, despite the painful stinging sensation of them cutting into his scarred wrists, drawing warm energon. A frightened, sparkwrenching cry escaped his lips as something pushed him back down. A heavy weight settling over him in the next second, immobilizing him completely. No.. nonono! This couldn’t be real.. this just couldn’t be real! 

When he next opened his optics, Megatron was standing straight over him. Knock Out couldn’t move, couldn’t vent, couldn’t even look away. Was the Autobot medic just an illusion? A dream he’d fallen into to escape what was happening? 

His claws scrabbled desperately at the bridge’s floor, hoping to find something, anything, that could help him defend himself. But he was so tired.. Energon gushed copiously out of his many wounds, crushed and frayed wires sparkling with electricity, metal screeching and bending with every blow. 

The racer was lying in a pool of his own energon, his life force ebbing away with every second. Agony and torment became his world. He could only watch and scream as Megatron drove his sword into his frame, his clawed servo tearing into whatever area the blade had missed. 

Sharp digits sank into his side and Knock Out let out a pitiful wail, dim red optics searching for anything that could distract him from his imminent demise. Lubricant flowed freely down his faceplate as the warlord peeled off his armor like it was nothing, crushing and scarring his wrists with his brutal hold. A sharp edged knee drove into his stomach, right into the stab wound there and Knock Out let out a gurgled shriek, hurling up whatever was left in his tanks.

“Disgusting..” the mech above him sneered, backhanding him hard enough to bruise. Knock Out’s helm snapped to the side by the force of the blow, his swimming vision causing his empty tanks to churn agonizingly. Soundwave stood to the side, his blank visor fixed on the horrific scene before him. The racer let out a choked sob, silently begging the spy to interfere, to do something, but the mech never moved. A bitter laugh involuntarily escaped his lips. Of course Soundwave wouldn’t interfere.. Why should he? The spy was the perfect decepticon. Knock Out was an insult to his very existence. Just by being alive the red medic was undermining everything Soundwave did for the cause. The medic would not receive help from the Third in Command.

———————————(rape)—————————

Sharp claws grabbed at his panel and his attention snapped back to his tormentor, terror and panic prompting him to struggle all the harder, despite his grievous injuries. Megatron’s optics brightened with sadistic glee as he watched his victim wail and screech, arousal blooming inside him as he observed as those tears slid down a handsome faceplate. The mech hauled Knock Out up, pressing him close, heedless of the energon staining his silver chassis and the weak struggles of the CMO. His claw tips brushed almost gently against the modesty panel, enjoying the way the mech jolted, powerful engines letting out a pleased rumble as the small form began to struggle even more. Megatron watched Knock Out’s optics widen, his helm beginning to shake from side to side, silently begging him not to do this. Hot, blinding rage coursed through him. Did this piece of slag really think he could command him?! Command Lord Megatron?!?

A groan wrung itself from the medic’s lips as sharp digits dug into his panel, shortly followed by a haunting screech as the covering was ruthlessly torn off. A broken sob shook his small frame as he felt a light brush against his valve lips, a mockery of a lover’s touch. A hot breath tickled his audio as Megatron pressed even closer. The servo that wasn’t currently occupied with stroking his interface equipment slid along Knock Out’s quivering flank, his arousal spiking when the medic flinched, caressing the soft curves and dips of the racer’s body.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” He whispered into a twitching audio receiver, reveling in the shiver his deep growl induced. Megatron’s claws never stopped in their mockingly gentle torment of Knock Out’s plush lips. Knock Out’s frame was in too much pain and emotional distress to lubricate. No matter. His energon would do. 

There was a sickening screech of metal against metal as the warlord slammed Knock Out against the floor. “Don’t move or I will kill you.” He growled, the decepticon beneath him shuddering, crystalline tears glistening on his pearly white faceplate. With Knock Out completely still, the silver mech focused his attention elsewhere, dangerous servos stroking over silver thighs, slowly inching inward. The medic whimpered, but lay still as Megatron spread his legs, displaying him lewdly for the sadistic warlord. A low, pain laced moan echoed through the room as the large mech stroked over his rim, legs trembling and resisting the urge to push the mech away. Away. “Remain still.” Megatron growled, blood red optics flashing with anger and Knock Out went limp, his E.M field flaring with terror and overwhelming anguish. The warlord let himself take a few nanoclicks to enjoy the view before brutally ramming two digits into the dry valve, pushing painfully against the soft walls.

———————————-(end of scene)—————-

Unable to control himself as white hot agony coursed through him, Knock Out arched up with a shriek, long claws desperately reaching out for something, anything -

Megatron was saying something and the medic matched onto the sound of his voice, desperate to focus on something over than the agonizing violation of his frame. “Wake up, Knock Out.” The medic frowned, confusion seeping into his field, mixing with the pain and terror there. That.. wasn’t Megatron’s voice. “Come on, Knock Out, please wake up.”

June Darby’s face came into view, her blue eyes wide and her pale face tear stricken as she frantically tried to break him out of the memory he’d fallen into. The Nemesis’s bridge dissipated around him as well as the vision of Megatron standing over his body. The small human woman let out a relieved gasp and only then did he realize that she was softly caressing his cheek armor, soothing him. Knock Out let out a small sob, turning his faceplate in her direction, listening to her quiet voice as she calmed him, frame shuddering, wrists aching from where the cuffs had dug into them. 

June choked down the heavy lump in her throat, pushed aside the urge to cry alongside the distraught decepticon, never stopping in her soothing touches, glancing over her shoulder at Ratchet. The Autobot medic nodded quietly, exiting the room and closing the medbay door behind him. It was best to leave Knock Out with the nurse alone for a few minutes. The decepticon was still restrained, so he would not be able to harm neither himself nor the human. Not that Knock Out be in any state to do so even if he wanted to and was free.

Sighing, Ratchet turned to the sheepish form of Optimus Prime, rubbing his nasal ridge to hide his growing anger. “What part of ‘don’t visit the ‘Con’ did you not understand, Optimus?” He pushed out, looking up incredulously at the tall mech.

Optimus shifted uncomfortably from one pede to another, still deeply shaken by Knock Out’s panic attack. “I had to see him. I just needed to make sure that he knew he was safe here. That he would not be treated as a prisoner.”

Ratchet sighed, shoulders slumping tiredly. “I understand that, Prime, but I specifically told you and Bulkhead to stay away despite your feelings about the matter. Knock Out’s mental state is very fragile right now, he suffered a severe trauma, in fact, he might not even recover fully. By walking into the medbay unannounced, you triggered a flashback. He mistook you for Megatron. You and Bulkhead have the right build, the height, the size. Anything that’s even remotely familiar can trigger a memory and cause him to panic. Primus, you even have the star saber with you.” Ratchet gestured to the long sword that was sling over the mech’s back. “More than that, he’s recovering from physical trauma as well. His spark can’t handle such stress, it could flicker out! I barely managed to bring him back when he flatlined on my operating table!” The Prime flinched, optics dropping to the floor and his field coloring with guilt. The medic didn’t stop there though. “I will not repeat myself and make sure that everyone knows. No one is to enter the medbay. Only I or Nurse Darby can visit Knock Out. If you need my assistance and I’m not on my post, my com link is always on, you can contact me at any time. “ He didn’t wait for Optimus’s reply, reentering the medbay with cautious steps, instantly flaring his field to brush it against Knock Out’s so that the decepticon would instantly recognize him and not freak out.

June was still there, humming a melody Ratchet did not recognize. Knock Out’s shivering had gradually decreased, but his optics still shimmered with unshed tears. Pulling up his makeshift chair, Ratchet reseated himself, reaching out to stroke alongside the ‘con’s arm. He felt his spark ache when Knock Out hid his face away as if from shame. June settled down beside him, reaching into her bag to begin unpacking essentials. It would seem that the nurse was preparing for another all nighter. Ratchet resisted the urge to ask about her job, she seemed to get very upset every time he did so. June said she’d taken a sick leave for a few days to be here and while he was extremely grateful for her aid, it wasn’t her responsibility. 

If she had met Knock Out before his assault, he could’ve ended up hurting her. Ratchet fought in the war, he was aware of the horrors the decepticons commited, she wasn’t. If she knew, would she still offer her compassion?

Ratchet shook his helm, grasping Knock Out’s servo in a firm hold. What mattered most right now was the raped and beaten mech lying before him. And he’d do everything to help said mech to recover. No matter what it took to get there. “Knock Out?” He spoke softly, the decepticon flinching at his voice. Be gentle, Ratchet reminded himself as June gently stroked Knock Out’s arm. At least the medic wasn’t completely averse to touch, that was progress, however small. He was accepting comfort. Before the attack, Knock Out would never have accepted this. He’d have sneered and called them soft, weak. And now here he was, letting them show compassion towards him. “Look at me.” The racer shook his helm, optics shut and Ratchet knew he had to bring him out now. He leaned closer, trying to gently roll the injured mech onto his back when he realized that Knock Out was whispering something feverishly under his breath. Both June and the medic stilled, straining their hearing to hear what was being said. What Ratchet heard next made his spark clench in horrified pity. 

“Please... please don’t.. I.. won’t fail.. you again.. Master, please.. please!” The broken sound of Knock Out’s voice echoed in the stillness of the room. June covered her mouth with her hand in horror, her ocean blue eyes welling with tears that she managed to hold back only with the force of will. Ratchet felt like he was breaking alongside the young mech, spark sinking as he sank to his knee joints beside the ‘Con’s helm, a servo coming up to draw soothing circles on Knock Out’s back. “It’s alright, Knock Out..” He whispered, voice cracking. He gently squeezed the slender servo. “It’s okay.. it’s going to be okay.”

The Autobot slowly inched closer, Knock Out tensing, but not pulling away from his touch. “Open your optics, mech.. Come on, look at me.” Knock Out stifled a sob of despair as he reluctantly obeyed, dim red optics meeting blue. Ratchet was shocked by the dread he saw there, realizing that in that moment Knock Out genuinely expected to see someone else. “There you go.” He forced himself to smile encouragingly. “It’s just me, mech.. just me.” Ratchet saw the dawning realization, quickly followed by self-hatred and disgust. He wanted desperately to dissuade Knock Out, to tell him that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but the ‘Con never gave him the chance.

“Here, let me help you.” He muttered instead when Knock Out struggled to sit up, red optics dangerously dim. Remembering that Knock Out had not refuled other than receiving energon from the IV line, he pulled out a cube from his sub space, quietly offering it to the distraught medic. The red mech took the offered cube into one trembling servo to bring the fuel to his lips. Ratchet was about to offer his help, but Knock Out shot him a glare that lost most of its heat due to the emotional turmoil within. 

“I’m sorry..” The ‘Con’s voice was quiet, muffled by the cube as if some part of him didn’t want to be heard. “I’m sorry, I just.. I didn’t mean to..”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” June’s voice was soft, but firm. The woman sat down beside Knock Out’s free servo, drawing her hand gently over one of his digits. “Flashbacks are.. to be expected, however difficult it is to accept that.”

Knock Out nodded, grimacing slightly in distaste at his own weakness. “I’ve had two in just a few days.. Every time one of your Autobot comrades walks in.. I-I can’t control the.. the memories..”

“It’s normal for a.. mech who went through what you did, Knock Out” Ratchet spoke softly and the decepticon cringed, Shame coloring his field making the autobot look up in dismay. “There’s nothing shameful in needing help, mech.” Knock Out shook his helm, a bitter smile stretching across his faceplate.

“Megatron was right..” He said in a broken whisper, his frame beginning to shake as lubricant built up in his optics. “I am an embarrassment to the decepticons..” the laugh that he let out was bitter and watery, servos clenching around the thermal sheet. Ratchet placed a light servo on the red mech’s shoulder, allowing him to pull away if he wanted to.

“Knock Out..” It was June’s voice now, just as gentle and quiet as before. “I know you don’t want to do this, but you have to tell us about what happened to you.” The Con stiffened, instantly pulling away from the medic’s hold, fervently shaking his helm, optics wide with barely restrained panic. June began to shush him quietly when he began to tremble, fear and horror coloring his field. “I know that this is very difficult for you, I know you’re frightened, but you have to, Knock Out. You need help.”

The decepticon let out a choked sob, bending his legs despite the protests of his ravaged frame and burrowing his faceplate into his arms. June gently brushed the tips her fingers against his shaking side, sharing a serious glance with Ratchet.

However difficult this was gonna be, they had to do this. To truly begin to heal, Knock Out had to talk about what happened.


End file.
